phone sex

So, out of the blue, I got a call from a man. He said, "Hi, I work for a phone fantasy service. We provide professional adult entertainment over the telephone. And, congratuations, your friend Laura has gotten you a gift of a phone fantasy! Would you like it warm, hot, or X-rated?"

I was like, What? But I recovered quickly. Okay, yeah! Gimme the X!

He told me a long story, with me in the starring role. It started off with, "You're on vacation at a resort in Mexico. One evening at the bar, you notice a tall dark stranger checking you out..." He had a very rich low voice, and he paused every now and then to give me choices in the plot: "Now, do you want to go up to his room yet, or would you rather take him out on the dance floor first?" I got very caught up in the tale of my imaginary saucy exploits -- so much better than my real life! -- and barely stopped to wonder where on earth Laura had been doing her gift-shopping.

The story built relentlessly to a fiery climax. I was in the stranger's room at last. The lights were down, the music was low, and we were undressing eachother little by little, our hot fingers pulling at eachother's buttons. Our lips and tongues came together. Overcome with desire, I slipped down to my knees on his shag rug and opened my cherry-red mouth in a round O of wonder at his endowments, and then--

--and then the phone went dead in my hands.

I was a bit perplexed, not to mention overheated and annoyed. But I had not an iota of suspicion. The next day I had a conversation with Laura that went like this:

Me: By the way, thanks for that gift. The phone thing.
Laura: Um, what?
Me: The phone-fantasy guy, he called yesterday. That was, wow. I've never heard anything like it. He was really good.
Laura: (getting a nervous look) Okay, I have no idea what you're talking about. Phone fantasy?
Me: You didn't buy me a gift of phone sex from a strange man?

WTF.

Then I remembered an incident from a week or two before. I'd gotten a call from a man who represented Cache --that store in the mall that no one goes into because, when you want Victoria's Secret, why not just go to Victoria's Secret? But he promised me a free pair of undies if I'd take part in a questionnaire to help his store better serve the lingerie needs of women like me. And, underwear whore that I am, I said free undies? sure, I'll do it! So he gave me a bunch of questions about my preferences: did I go for lace or silk? Push-up or strapless? At the end, he asked for my underwear size and favorite color and style (high-cut, cotton, and charcoal gray, gentle readers... and may I mention that my birthday is right about now?) so he could send my free gift. Then he asked if I had any friends who might like to participate. I gave him Laura's name.

Same guy. Same voice. I swear.

The really interesting thing to me is: isn't it amazing how far people will go to satisfy their strange urges? Imagine, he thought up this whole interlocking scam -- just so he could talk lingerie and Mexican sexcapades to strange women over the phone. People are really weird.

It sure was entertaining, though. But now it's been a while, and I still haven't heard back from him. I wonder if he'll call today. God, I hate it when men don't call.